


A Small Change

by Rhiw



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Baby Cloud Strife, Brotherly Bonding, Brotherly Love, Cloud is a Shinra, Cloud slowly woos ShinRa by being cute as hell, F/F, F/M, Family Feels, Family Fluff, In the sense that planet goes back and changes time, M/M, Pairings May Change, Pairings undecided, Paternal Instinct, Paternal Vincent Valentine, Possible Sephiroth/Cloud in future, President Shinra is a Slut and inadvertently saves the world, Rufus is so done with his father being a whore, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Time Travel, Vincent Valentine Is Sephiroth's Parent, Vincent Valentine as #1 Dad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:18:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22250134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhiw/pseuds/Rhiw
Summary: The world is dying. It’s slow, it’s long; the last bloom of life on Gaia won’t happen for decades, for centuries. But it is dying and something must be done. It takes everything the planet has to reach back, to change something; just one thing, one small thing, one hope to change the path of the world completely. It drains the planet of the last of it’s will, but it works.1989: Nebelheim, Western Continent; Ada Strife enters ShinRa’s Yule Relief Contest when once she'd ignored it. And wins. It changes Cloud Strife's life completely.AKA: President Shinra is a slut and inadvertently saves the world, Rufus just wants his baby brother to be successful, Cloud is still determined to be a SOLDIER, and Vincent has no idea who thought it was a good idea to put so many maladjusted children in charge of everything.
Relationships: Angeal Hewley & Genesis Rhapsodos & Sephiroth, Cloud Strife & Tseng, Cloud Strife & Vincent Valentine, Lazard Deusericus & Cloud Strife, Rufus Shinra & Cloud Strife, Sephiroth/Cloud Strife
Comments: 178
Kudos: 1582





	1. The Contest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ada Strife dares to dream.

Ada Strife entered on a whim. She first took notice of the poster in the tiny post office located in the only grocer in town a few weeks ago. _Register Today!,_ it exclaimed brightly, _win a farm of your own! A Gift from ShinRa to YOU! – ShinRa’s Yule Holiday Relief Fund._ At first she dismissed it; Ada had never had any luck. The napping three-year-old on her shoulder was proof of that; Ada had been warned about ShinRa long before she ever went to work at the mansion all those years ago. She’d been told her whole life not to trust outsiders, that anyone who hadn’t been born in Nibelheim was _Außenseiter;_ other, unreliable, shifty. They weren’t to be trusted, ShinRa were dishonest and fiends at their core.

But the Strife’s had always been desperately poor and Ada perhaps the poorest of them all, and she’d gone to work for ShinRa out of desperation. And nine months later her son was born outside of wedlock with no _Nachname_ outside of his _Muttername_ to call his own. It was perhaps the greatest shame a woman of Nibelheim could ever have and the dishonor it cast on Ada was great, but it’s shadow was even greater for her son.

No one would hire her; what Ada survived on came from what she could grow from the earth with her own hands – and whoever took pity on her in the town and traded with her for her modest harvests. She had breast fed her son, Cloud, for as long as she could, but after three years her breast milk was finally starting dry up. If she wanted her son to live through the winter, Ada had to find something. Just… _something._

So, a week later, despite her misgivings and feeling like a fool, Ada entered the contest. She painstakingly filled out the paperwork (and if elderly Mrs. Frida, who had always had a soft spot for her, had helped filled out because her reading was – _eh –_ so what?) and enclosed a photo of herself and Cloud. The prize was a dream; two cows, two sheep, two goats, four rabbits, eight chickens, and a rooster; all breeding pairs. There were to be fifty winners from across the continent, all from towns or villages that had a reactor nearby. It was undoubtedly a public relations move, something devised to encourage good will towards ShinRa, complete with a visit from President Shinra’s wife or son. It was called ‘The Ark,’ and it might seem simple to some, but the presence of such animals could change Ada Strife’s life completely.

So she entered.

But honestly, no part of her thought she’d ever _win._

* * *

Rufus sat, bored, staring blankly out the window that overlooked their great city. He’d been in the salon that served as his mother’s office for what felt like hours. In reality it was probably closer to a half hour, just enough time for his mother to sort through the pictures of the contestants and pick out winners. It was supposed to be based on merit or need, but he was pretty sure his mother was choosing based on how pretty she thought the families were.

His father, always capable of being absent while still in the room, was agreeing half-heartedly while going through his e-mail.

“Oh my goodness,” Cora Shinra said, her voice practically a coo, “look how cute these two are. Oh my, and no father! It must be so hard for her! A single mother – I can’t even imagine! Look, darling, doesn’t she look inviting?”

Rufus looked up at his mother’s excited voice, watching as she waved the picture around. He was just about to go back to staring at the neon cityscape when something in his father’s face – a remote twitch of the lips – caught his attention. For someone as surly and taciturn as his father, that single emotion spoke of much. 

Thomas Shinra, better known as the President, reached out and caught the picture. He examined it, brows furrowing slightly. “Where are they from, pumpkin?”

“Ni-Nibel-hen-him?” His mother’s lips pursed, squinting at the town’s name.

“Nibelheim, ma’am.” One of their Turks escorts offered.

“Nibelheim!” Cora repeated with childish excitement, looking proud and pleased with herself. It took everything Rufus had not to show the distaste he felt on his face. His parents disgusted him; everything about them made him recoil. From his father’s brutishness to his mother’s stupidity and heavy handed attempts at coyness. Rufus loathed being near them. He had loved them once; when he’d been younger, he’d been desperate for his mother’s attention, craved his father’s approval. But at seven and with the certification of a genius from several different universities, he was far beyond that. He knew now that there was nothing he could possibly do to earn either, so why belittle himself even trying?

“Nibelheim.” His father said, voice distant. He clicked his fingers at the Turk. “Names? Ages?”

“Ada Strife, twenty-three, and her son, Cloud Strife, three. A point of note, sir, Ada Strife used to work for us when ShinRa was active in Nibelheim.”

“Three.” And something in his father’s voice, something almost peacocky and proud caught Rufus’ attention. “A single mother with a three-year-old. A _son.”_

“Oh yes,” his mother gave Rufus what she most likely thought was a cute and attractive wink, “sons are wonderful things. And a former employee – why, darling, I can’t think of anyone more worthy of such a gift.”

His father tossed the picture back onto the pile. “Well, yes then cupcake, they seem a good choice.”

His mother squealed, but Rufus’ attention was caught. He gestured to the Turk. “Let me see the picture.”

The Turk obeyed without question. As he gazed down at the brunette woman and her very blond son, something inside of Rufus grew bitter. Three years old. Four years ago, his father had been supposedly vacationing at one of their mansions in Nibelheim. In reality, he had been there to see if Hojo’s creation, Sephiroth, was ready for deployment. Relations with Wutai had been growing even more strained and war (as it continued to be) a threat on the horizon. He stared down at the little blond boy, taking in his patrician features, the distinctive set of his nose and chin, the blue of his eyes, and the differences between the toddler and his mother – and scowled.

_Another brother._

Rufus flung the picture away.

Of course.

_Of course._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it. Also, if a native speaker of English could explain why sometimes you add '-' between years, such as 'a three-year-old' opposed to 'a three year old,' I'd be grateful.


	2. First Meetings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which baby!Cloud is stupidly cute and Rufus has no idea how to handle it.

Nibelheim was surprisingly quite a beautiful town. It was a hamlet more than a village, with less than twenty houses stretched out in a ring around the town’s center. There was a statue marking its founding, with an inn that served as both a public house and the town hall. The ShinRa mansion loomed abandoned and decrepit over Nibelheim, perched up on one of the flat cliff tops that stood tall over the northern end of the town. They’d trucked the animals up in a large trailer, while Rufus had flown in his personal helicopter. The town’s people stared openly at him, something that Rufus was hardly unused to, but instead of awe and fear-based respect, it was in distrust. Rufus hardly cared, the two Turks that shadowed him would keep him from harm.

“We’ve secured a car for you, sir.” One of the Turks, Rude, offered. Rufus nodded, taking in the dust and mud that stained the normally pristine ShinRa company car. Tseng held the door open for him, the quiet Wutaian man slipping into the front seat while Rude got between the wheel. The drive to the Strife’s place took almost an hour; they were by far the furthest from the town than any household that Rufus had seen.

They were practically in the woods, tall coniferous greens that grew tight and thick, keeping the sun at bay. The road they were on was hardly large enough to fit the car and the ride was bumpy, the road little more than a well-trodden dirt path. The car pulled up to what could only be considered a _hut_. It was a short, squat looking building, nothing more than a wooden rectangle with very few windows and a roughly hewn front door. The roof was sod, slightly dried and yellow in the summer heat.

Tseng opened the door for him once more and Rufus took a deep inhale, finding the fresh scent of the forests pleasant but strange. As a born and bred Midgarian, Rufus had rarely smelled such clean air outside of the occasional vacations he took with his mother. The truck rumbled up behind them, creaking and hissing loudly as it came to a stop, the animals mooing and ba-ing loudly. Rufus had only just straightened his suit jacket when the door opened. A short woman stepped out, with pale skin and brunette hair pulled up in a messy bun, clad in a thread bare blouse and thin brown skirt. She was wiping her hands off on her apron. Mossy green eyes narrowed as she took them in, lips twisted down.

“Can I help you?”

Rude bowed his heads slightly, “Ms. Ada Strife?”

Her frown grew more pronounced, eyes suspicious as it took in the company car and truck, and the tall forms of the Turks. “Yes?”

Rufus stepped forward, Rude a silent shadow behind. “Good Afternoon, Ms. Strife. My name is Rufus Shinra, son of President Shinra. I’ve come to congratulate you on winning the Yule Relief Contest.”

Ms. Strife eyes widened, going abruptly pale before flushing red. A bright smile broke across her face and for a moment Rufus was struck dumb as the years and hard lines on her face melted off completely. She looked very pretty and young all at once, no longer the muddled and exhausted woman that had greeted them.

“Oh my – really? Cloud! Cloud, baby, come look!”

There was the sound of pounding feet and then quite possibly the smallest child that Rufus had ever seen was peaking around Ada Strife’s skirt. Rufus felt his breath catch – nearly silent – but he knew that the Turks had heard it. It was almost impossible to hide anything from a Turk, but it mattered little; they’d take from this meeting what they would, he knew they wouldn’t speak on it.

And then, there he was.

His little brother.

Rufus knew that he had several half-brothers, his father was irritatingly open and proud that he had a tendency to sire sons, and had never hidden them. But Rufus had never sought any of them out before now. He wasn't even sure why he was here now, but when his mother had suggested he cover the Western towns, including Nibelheim, Rufus had felt...curious. Maybe it was because Cloud was younger - Rufus hadn't known of any _younger_ half-brothers before. Cloud was small for his age and so thin that it was almost shocking. A shirt hung loosely off of him, clearly for a larger child, patched in several places and held around his waist with a rope. A pair of grey pants peaked out from underneath the shirt, rolled up several times in comically large cuffs. He had a head of wild blond hair, chunks of it standing up and flying about in every which way. His feet were bare and slightly dirty, and he had a pair of large, bright blue eyes that only grew wider as he stared at the assorted men before him. He was extremely pale and that paleness only highlighted a blooming bruise on his jaw.

The sight of it stirred something hot and surprising in his breast, and Rufus glared at the grey bruise. Cloud let out a squeak, hiding his face in Ms. Strife’s leg. “Mama?”

“Look, Cloudy. Do you remember when I told you I entered in a contest. Well, we won!”

Cloud peaked out, a tiny smile pulling at his lips. “We did! Does that mean I getta name the cows?”

Ada Strife laughed, the sound thick with relief and joy. “The cows, the goats – you can name them all, sweetheart.”

Cloud clapped tiny hands together in excitement. “Yay! C'n I see them?”

The farm worker that had brought the animals up laughed, tilting his cap up and itching under the brim. “Sure can, little fella. Come on over, I’ll show you your new animals.”

Cloud darted forward, Rufus’ eyes tracking the movement, watching as the worker helped Cloud climb up on the covered wheel well to peer inside the trailer. Behind him, Rude cleared his throat pointedly. Rufus jerked his eyes way, giving Ada Strife one of his signature smiles. “Now, ma’am, we’d like to get a few photos – for our website and the newspapers. Then we’ve got some papers you’ll need to sign.”

“Oh yes, yes of course.” Ada Strife said, eyes practically glowing. “Anything you need. Please come in.”

“Rude, fetch the camera man.” Rufus instructed, following the woman inside.

The house was (almost impossibly) even less impressive on the inside. It had dirt floors and what little space that was not taken up by the fireplace or cast iron cooking stove held a dining set with two mismatched stools, an ancient looking radio, and a handmade wooden bench pressed up against the wall nearby. Rufus was not unfamiliar with poverty as a concept, but he had never really seen it before.

“You have no idea what this means to us, Mr. Rufus, sir.” Ms. Strife exclaimed, almost breathless. “This is going to change our whole lives. I won’t have to worry about fo – I mean, we’ll be able to eat and sell the animal products. I could,” Ms. Strife was practically shaking, her hands wringing her apron in excitement, “I could send Cloud to the school.”

Rufus looked up sharply from where he was eyeing one of the crude stools in distrust. “You have to pay to attend school?”

“There isn’t a public school in Nibelheim,” Ms. Strife explained, busying herself with pouring what looked like coffee into two mismatched cups, “there is a matron in town, but you have to pay and we’ve just – I’ve just never had the money before. I've taught Cloud what I can, but...well, I never went far in school myself. Here you go, it's fresh. I just made the pot.” She offered the coffee to the Turks, who only took it after Rufus’ stiff nod, “I’m afraid I don’t have any milk or sugar to spare, but please enjoy. Mr. Rufus, I can offer you juice or water?”

“Water will be fine.”

The front door burst open, Cloud rocketing in. One entire side of his hair was standing up and flat. He was almost giggling too hard to speak. “Mama! A cow licked me!”

“I can tell.” Ms. Strife said fondly, reaching out with her apron to clean up the side of Cloud’s face and push the hair back down.

“Mama, the cow likes me! I’m gonna name her Bell aft'r the bell she’s got.”

“That’s wonderful, baby. Come meet Mr. Rufus.”

Those blue eyes zeroed in on Rufus. “Mister? But you’re a boy like me!”

Ms. Strife laughed. “He is, isn’t he? Would you like to show Mr. Rufus your room while I fill out the papers?”

Cloud’s entire face lit up. “Yeah!”

Tseng’s eyes cocked to the side, brows raising in question. Rufus glanced from the Wutaian’s face to the excited one of his half-brother before sighing. “Fine.”

Cloud cheered, grabbing Rufus by the hand and pulling him behind him. Rufus stared at their clasped hands in shock. When was…when was the last time he’d been touched like this? Cloud was chattering away, cheerful and happy, mostly about the cows, as he lead him down a narrow and dark hallway.

“This is my room.” Cloud said as he tossed the door open, before drooping slightly. “It’s…um, kinda small.” That was an understatement; Rufus had seen closets larger than this room. There was just enough room for a bed shoved lengthwise on one side, a rickety looking dresser parallel to it on the other. “And it’s not like Tifa’s or Fredrich’s, but my mama made me this quilt!”

The small boy almost tripped over his legs as he lifted it from the bed, pulling his pillow off the bed and spilling it onto the floor. It had brightly quartered squares in various colors and styles, most likely made up from old clothing.

“See?”

“It’s…very…eclectic.” Rufus offered politically.

Cloud’s head cocked to the side, nearly invisible blond brows drawn low. “Was’tha mean? Ec-Ekletic?”

“Eclectic.” Rufus corrected. “And it means different. But in a good way.” He tacked that last part on quickly, not wanting to upset the boy. Cloud nodded seriously.

“It _is_ different. My mama made it jus' for me. No one else got it.” Cloud abandoned the quilt on the ground, seemingly uncaring that dirt may get on it. He rushed over to a small chest that tucked between the head of the bed and the wall, it’s flat top serving double duty as a side table. He took the candle off of it, carefully setting it on the ground, before opening it. “These are my toys. Mama made these for me too!”

Rufus stared at the roughly hewed toys and cloth animals, mostly knitted or stitched together. There were only five and Rufus thought that the toy chest must be very empty inside. Rufus had never seen such toys before. He had an entire playroom back at the Tower, easily larger than the Strife’s home, with the latest technology and video games, often developed by ShinRa itself.

“But this one is my favorite.” Cloud said, abandoning the line of toys and climbing up on his bed. His legs kicked in the air as he dug under the rough looking sheets, the bottoms of his bare feet practically black. He fell back down, turning to Rufus to hold up a hand knitted doll. It had a sparse head of yellow yarn atop a round, stuffed head and a small, thin body. There was a plaid handkerchief sown around its body as tunic, and it held a flat, floppy felt sword in one hand. “This's Odin, after the Big God Mama talks to. He’s my best friend.”

“Your best friend is a doll?” The incredulous words were out before he could think better of them. Cloud’s cheeks blushed a bright red, staring down at his feet in embarrassment, his big toe drawing a circle in the dusty floor.

“Uh…yeah. The town kids don’t like me.” Cloud admitted, hugging the doll tightly. His hand came up to brush against his jaw and Rufus’ hands fisted tightly by his side. Bullying most likely, which was another foreign concept for Rufus. He was rarely around children his own age and even if he was, one wrong look and his Turk guard would handle it. For some reason, the idea of Cloud being bullied made his stomach sour. The mournful look on his half-brother’s face only made the feeling grow.

Perhaps that’s why he spoke next; Rufus didn’t really understand it - he’d never freely shared things about himself in the past before. And yet, the words just came out. “I don’t have any friends either.”

Cloud looked up in surprise. “Really? But yer so cool! You're so clean and nice.”

Rufus glanced down at the three piece he was wearing. He’d chosen one of his least favorite suits in awareness that they’d be going somewhere _rural._ “…thank you.”

“Why don’tcha ya have friends?” Cloud asked, itching at his ear. “The townies don’t like me ‘cause I live out here an' ‘cause they don’t like my mama and ‘cause I don’t have a daddy. But you have a daddy, don't you?”

 _So do you,_ a part of Rufus thought bemusedly. “I suppose it’s because I’m smarter than them. And richer. Simple jealously.”

“Don’tcha get lonely?”

Rufus’ head tilted slightly. “My, what a probing question.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t get lonely, Cloud. You can be alone and not lonely.”

Cloud gave him a look of badly hidden disbelief before biting his bottom lip, hesitant, his hands fiddling with his doll’s sword. “What if…what if we were friends?” He took a shuddering breath, as if shocked at his own daring. “Ima good friend! Like the bestest friend ever. And then ya won’t be lonely!”

Rufus eyed the hopeful expression before sighing, shoving his hands into his pockets, thumbs out. “…fine, I guess.” Cloud let out a gasp of pure delight, darting forward, thin arms wrapping around his waist. Rufus jerked back as if he’d been struck, hands hovering awkwardly over the boy’s back. After a moment, he patted Cloud's thin shoulders a few times. “Uh, there, there. No need to get hysterical.”

Cloud grinned up at him, chin resting on Rufus’ chest. “I’ve never had'a friend b’fore.”

Rufus felt something soften in him, expression gentling. “…neither have I.”

A knock the door frame pulled his attention behind him and Rufus scowled at the perfectly composed yet distinctly amused look on Tseng’s face. “We’re ready for the photos, sir.”

“Of course. Come along, Cloud.”

They shot several photos; outside the Strife house, by the barn, along a fence with the animals roaming freely in the background. The photographer had tried to get photos inside the house, but Rufus put his foot down. He knew the angle here; look at this poor family, look at these miserable cretins, look how we – the ShinRa Electric Company – have brightened their lives. But he’d be damned if he had the Strife’s – _had Cloud’s_ – poverty broadcast in such a crass way.

“Thank you for your time, Ms. Strife.” Rufus offered genially, ignoring the delighted look on Ada Strife’s face as she shook her hand.

“My, such a little gentleman.” Rufus resolutely ignored that as well. “Cloud, come say goodbye.”

Cloud’s face looked desolate. “Do ya really gotta go? Don’tcha wanna stay and play with Bell and Frankie?”

“I’m sure your cows will be fine with you, Cloud.” Rufus explained, taking in the wet eyes and heartbroken expression on his half-brother’s face in confusion.

“But if you go, how’re we gonna be friends?”

“Cloud, baby,” Ms. Strife started, voice gentle, “Mr. Rufus has to go home. You don’t want to keep him from his own mama and daddy, do you?” Cloud shook his head miserably. Suddenly he turned on his heel and darted into the house. Ms. Strife sighed, embarrassed. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Rufus, Cloud is young. He doesn’t understand –”

But just as quickly as he’d left, Cloud was back, his little doll in his hand.

“Here!” He held the doll out, bottom lip jutted determinedly. “You can take Odin. He’s really fun. ‘n if you get lonely, he’s good fer hugs.” Rufus’ brows climbed up in surprise, but before he could reject the…gift, because as well meaning as it was, he was hardly going to deprive Cloud of one of the few toys he had when Rufus had legion at home himself. But Cloud went on, voice quiet and sad. “…and then ya won’t forget me.”

Rufus’ sighed, shoulders drifting down in defeat. He reached out, taking the doll. “Thank you, Cloud. That’s very kind of you.”

He was rewarded with a radiant smile, bright and happy. “Bye, Rufus!”

“Goodbye, Cloud.”

He steadfastly ignored the glossy sheen to Ms. Strife’s eyes and the utterly amused slant of both his Turk escorts' faces and climbed into the Sudan. As the car pulled away, a glance back showed Cloud waving so hard his entire body was swaying with it. Rufus looked away, then down at the doll in his lap. Then – carefully – he set it down so it was sitting next to him in the backseat. Rude’s sunglasses glinted back at him from the reflection on the review mirror. Rufus scowled, ignoring the heat in his cheeks.

“Wipe that smile off your face, Rude.” 

“Yes, sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	3. The Vampire, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Cloud meets a vampire.

The arrival of the animals changed everything in the Strife household; Ada's day began long before the sun awoke. She was up by four, when her father’s old wind up alarm clock went off. She did her first wake up call to Cloud then (her baby boy was _not_ a morning person, much to Ada’s amusement) before starting on breakfast. She usually made something simple, like a fried egg on toast or oatmeal with honey if Ada hadn’t baked a fresh loaf yet. She usually stopped to give her second wake up call to Cloud around that time, before making coffee for herself, a cup of hot milk or water for Cloud. Usually by the time the food and drinks made it to the table, Cloud would come stumbling out of his room.

She would eat quickly, poking and prodding Cloud awake. He had a tendency to try and catch more sleep as he used his new Tonberry stuffed animal as a pillow on their table. The stuffed toy had arrived in the post quite unexpectedly, with a handwritten note from Rufus Shinra of all things, thanking Cloud for his gift of Odin and hoping he enjoyed his new toy just as much. The stuffed Tonberry had become Cloud’s most precious toy within moments of its unpackaging and Cloud graced the toy with the name of his new best friend, Mr. Rufus. Mr. Rufus the Tonberry went everywhere Cloud did and Ada could only be grateful that it handled hand washing as well as it did. She had helped Cloud write a thank you letter, but was quietly grateful that Rufus would assume that her son had done it himself. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d written anything outside of that contest form, and while Ada knew that while the shapes of the letters were right, they were also sloppy and she was sure the grammar was terrible.

Breakfast was finished and faces were washed by five. After, the family of two would gear up for the cold morning and head out to care for the animals. Cloud was responsible for feeding the chickens, as well as making sure that the rabbits had feed and water in their hutch. Ada took care of the bigger animals herself, driving them from the barn and into the field so she could muck it. Cloud often joined her in that, though Ada feared he mainly managed to get in the way more than anything else. But it made Cloud happy to help so Ada didn’t mind it.

By the time the sun was up, they were usually finally ready to move onto the fields. Ada’s crops were sparse in variety; a few types of bush beans, carrots, and radishes. She would probably only get a handful of good harvests before the first frosts came, and that was if she was lucky. Ada hoped that the money she made selling the excess animal products would allow her to buy different crops for the next growing season.

Cloud helped here as well, drawing water from the brook that trickled by their house and handing the bucket to Ada. Ada would then lug it up the small hill and painstakingly water the neat rows of her small garden. She knew there was a better way to water her crops through irrigation ditches or with a watering can, but she didn't know how to construct the former and hadn't enough gil to purchase the second, so the bucket would have to do.

It was hard work for Ada, but she knew it had to be even harder for Cloud. Yet her wonderful boy never complained, even as he grew slow with sweat and grime. By the time they were done in the garden it was usually nearing noon and Ada would make a small meal of hard boiled eggs and jam sandwiches, usually with Cloud falling asleep as he ate, and then tucked her baby into bed for a nap – Mr. Rufus by his side.

Life was definitely harder than it had ever been before; Ada went to sleep every night with an ache she swore she could feel in her very bones, and both herself and Cloud hands were red and blistered within those first few weeks. But even with all the strain and toil that took place, the positives far outweighed anything else.

Physically, both Ada and Cloud grew spoiled and well-fed on their dairy based diet. Where Ada had always been rail thin and wispy, she began to widen as she packed on muscles. Even Cloud grew stronger, able to carry the filled water bucket up the hill for the garden or animal troughs by himself. Cloud’s skin became less sallow, his hair grew thicker, and finally, _finally,_ the swelling buldge to his stomach flattened and disappeared. They were no longer starving; for the first time, Ada did not fear the arrival of winter.

She knew how to make cheese and butter from her own childhood, from before her mother had been forced to sell their only goat for gil when she had been a young teenager. So she spent her afternoons separating the cow and goat milk, one half would go to the market as is, the other half was further divided to be made into cheese and butter. With the money she made selling them, Ada was finally capable of improving their lives.

Practical things came first: milled wood was bought to fix the broken hutches (especially the birthing nest, which was soon filled with a little herd of kits – Ada never let Cloud name the babies, they were only ever meant for the stew pot) and patch up the holes in the barn and fence. Repairing her grandmother's old spindle came next, as well as buying sheers, a plastic bucket, and a new screen to harvest and wash the wool. She was already working on a new winter coat for Cloud.

Ada was able to trade a promise of a week’s worth of eggs for a small, yet plush rug she put down in Cloud’s room, a bright green and gold striped square that he loved immediately. The profit from the milk went first to purchasing fabric and thread for new clothing, and than towards buying the tailor's scrap fabric for her to make rag rugs for the main room.

And when winter came around, Ada had managed to save enough to buy both Cloud and herself used boots to replace the crude leather straps they usually used. They’d still have to stuff in rags around their socks to make the oversized things fit – but boots!

Towards the end of winter, a man stopped by the Strife household. He was young, but not too young, and very well spoken. He introduced himself as Henry Wells and that he had just recently moved to Nibelheim. He was a teacher, he explained, one that had been hired by the ShinRa Company as part of their outreach program.

Henry cheerfully told Ada that she was responsible for this program, as Rufus Shinra had been so moved by her explanation about the lack of education available that he’d brought it up with his mother. Mrs. Shinra, a lifelong philanthropist, had immediately set about designing and implementing the SERRC (the ShinRa Educational Reforms for Rural Communities), and that many reactor towns like Nibleheim had been selected. The school should be finished by the end of Spring and was free of cost for any child if that lived within thirty miles of Nibelheim, and would she like to sign Cloud up?

Ada had nearly cried from joy, even as she wondered what Mrs. Shinra would do if she only knew the truth of Cloud's father. But the past was the past, and Ada would change nothing of it if meant she didn't get to have her Cloud, and she refused to be anything other than happy. Truly, Ada’s life had changed and for the first time, for the better.

* * *

Spring gifted Cloud with bountiful freedom. They’d perfected the schedule with the animals over the last year so much that after Cloud woke from his afternoon nap, he found his mother shooing him off into the wilds. Cloud _loved_ exploring. The other kids in town never really warmed up to him, though they couldn’t really make fun of him as much about his clothing now that mama had made him new trousers and two (two!) shirts. But just because he was dressed better, it didn’t mean that they liked him.

Cloud thought it was stupid; he didn’t know why he thought having a stupid new shirt and stupid new pants and stupid new shoes would make them like him. But it had still stung when he’d gone into town the first time, washed clean and in his new duds, and was mocked and poked until he’d ended up fleeing back home with red cheeks and tearful eyes.

He didn’t need any friends anyway. He had Mr. Rufus and Real Rufus, and just because Real Rufus was all the way in Midgar didn’t mean Cloud didn’t have a friend. So, Cloud spent his free time in the forests. Mama made him promise not to go so far that he couldn’t hear her voice call to him and if he sometimes wandered too far – well, how was he to know? How could he know he couldn't hear her call him if he couldn’t _hear_ her do it?

Eventually Mama had given up on trying to curb his travels, giving Cloud a little rucksack he could carry on his back with an old metal thermos of water or tea and some sandwiches. It had belonged to his mama when she was a girl and her daddy before that, and his daddy before that! How neat was that? And Cloud could put Mr. Rufus in it and tie it tight with a draw string, and his stuffed friend could rest out it far enough to see things. And when Cloud turned four and half, he got a little knife he could take with him too. Mama made him promise only to use it if he was in trouble, but Cloud liked to take it out and stare at it sometimes, or cut some grass or hack at a stick with it.

He met the new teacher, a very tall man named Mr. Henry (who said he was really excited to have Cloud in his class!) who was nice but a little weird. Mr. Henry seemed really, really worried when he heard that Cloud liked to play in the woods, but Mama had told him that was just because Mr. Henry was from the city and that kids in the city didn’t play outside like country kids did.

Cloud was independent, Mama explained, she’d taught him how to read the weather and to never go up into the mountains were the monsters were, and how to run and hide and blow the little silver whistle he wore around his neck like all the Nibelheim kids did if he ran into any monsters. If he blew it really hard, the men from the town would come and save him.

 _“This is the way of Nibelheim, Cloud,”_ Mama said that night, brushing his hair out with a boar-bristle brush, _“you know the mountains. You know not to behave stupidly in them.”_

So Mr. Henry was weird but nice, and he promised to help Cloud write some more letters to Rufus, so Cloud was way more excited about going to school then he had been before. But knowing his afternoons would soon be filled with school only drove Cloud to spend even more time playing outside.

It was easier now; before he used to get really tired all the time, tired and really sleepy, and his stomach ached constantly. Mama used to never let him play outside or go very far from her side. But now, Cloud was hardly ever hungry and he could run and run and _run_ for miles before he got tired. Cloud loved running in the woods, being out under the sun and the blue sky. The smell of trees and forest floor was his favorite thing in the world.

As he grew more and more confident in the knowledge of the area, Cloud began going further and further away from home. There were no monsters this far down the mountainside, so he was never afraid or uncomfortable, and so he just explored. He was careful to skirt the town completely (and if he sometimes spied on the townie kids playing covetously – well, no one had to know but Mr. Rufus) and kept to the smaller hills surrounding the town.

And then one day, to Cloud’s shock, he stepped out of the thinning woods and found himself before the ShinRa mansion. The building was famous in the village and had quite its own mythos. The reactor itself – like most reactors located in non-hostile areas (well, non-hostile humans, monsters still bounded about aplenty, but held less interest in reactors than the former did) – had gone fully automated and the mansion had been left behind almost completely intact when the staff left. The adults never really talked about it, save for muttering about whatever nonsense ShinRa must have gotten up to there and wasn’t it so much better for everyone that they’d left? The kids though, they talked about how it was _haunted._

Like with ghosts and _everything._

Cloud couldn’t resist it, really. Even though he knew his mama would tan his hide if she ever learned he went up there, he just _had_ to know. _He had to._

That first day he just explored the grounds. There were a lot of gardens, the beds completely overgrown in some areas and empty dirt in the other. There was a really neat looking fountain, with a fish statue standing on two legs with a wide mouth, but no water came out of it. The water in the base was all scummy and green, and Cloud had found a dead frog floating in it and wasted most of the day poking it with a stick.

The next couple of times he visited, Cloud just walked around the big building. It was different from any type of house Cloud had ever seen before; it was made of red brick for one, with grey slate roof tiles, and even the shape of it was different from the squat wooden and plaster buildings in town. There were glass windows (more windows then Cloud had ever seen before on a building) and one of them was made up of tiny little pieces of different colored glass to make a picture of a tower.

Cloud was nervous about going in, but then he thought that if he _did_ go in he could tell the kids in town and then they’d be _so_ impressed they’d have to like him! But to his surprise, getting inside was harder than he thought. Everything was boarded up and what windows were busted out were on the second floor and way out of reach. It took Cloud almost two weeks exploring with Mr. Rufus before he found a small hole in one of the boarded-up doors.

Cloud could reach inside the hole and push the door open, though he lost his nerve to go in once he saw the yawning darkness inside. He returned the next day with a candle he’d stolen from Mama's pantry. It took him a minute to scrounge up his nerve, but it was so bright and warm outside that it seemed impossible to be afraid of anything, and he crawled into the hole.

He almost immediately wished he hadn’t, because while it had been sunny outside, the inside of the mansion was dark and dreary. There was light coming in from the windows, but they were so covered with dust that it cast everything in a strange, murky twilight. He held out his candle before realizing all at once that he didn’t bring anything to light it with.

Letting out a huff, Cloud stuffed the candle into his pack. He stroked his fingers over Mr. Rufus’ soft green head.

“I bet Rufus wouldn’t be scared of a stupid old building, huh, Mr. Rufus?” Cloud said quietly, eyes darting around the large, dark space. “Rufus isn’t a baby.” Cloud squared his shoulders. “I’m not a baby either.”

The room he was in was a huge kitchen, with greying cabinets and large, metal refrigerators. Cloud opened each one, disappointed to find them empty, before exploring a truly massive pantry. The kitchen lead to an equally large dining room, with one wall open and leading to an entryway, and one of the biggest tables Cloud had ever seen. The table was so long that it had more chairs than he could count and a yellowing lace tablecloth on it. A crystal chandler hung from a painted ceiling and Cloud stared up at it with awestruck eyes; it was one of the prettiest things he'd ever seen. He stepped back from the table, following the golden brass branches with his eyes, caught up in trying to count just how many dangling pendants hung from it.

He took another step back and froze when the wood beneath his feet screeched loudly. Cloud glanced down at the blackened wood, eyes wide, and suddenly he was falling.

* * *

Vincent wasn't sure what woke him. For a moment he laid in his coffin, listening. He was just about ready to ignore it and go back to sleep, convinced it was just another one of the local kids goofing around. They snuck in sometimes, or threw stones and bricks at the windows, egged on by their friends to prove their bravery. But just when he’d closed his eyes, Chaos still silent and quiet in his mind, ready to slip once more into slumber, he heard it again.

Crying.

Vincent’s eyes opened; brows furrowed. Now that he heard it, he could seemingly not unhear it, and ignoring it no longer an option. The sobs were thick and frightened, high-pitched and gasping. Fort the first time in decades, Vincent found himself torn on what to do. None of the children who had come to the mansion had ever cried before and the sobs were on-going, consistent. The child could be hurt, could be dying even, but to leave his coffin seemed unthinkable.

It was the quiet mews of _‘Mama’_ and desperate cries for help that sealed his decision. The sound of his coffin lid being lifted filled the basement with a loud hiss _,_ moldy air rushing in and filling the inside of it. Vincent’s nose wrinkled in distaste at it; all of his senses had been greatly enhanced after the mako experiments and when Chaos had been implanted in him, but Vincent could honestly say that the enhanced sense of smell was his least favorite.

Even after his extended sleep, Vincent’s legs and feet moved with little complaint, as quiet and sure-footed as ever. He stood before his coffin, listening intently before exiting the hidden lab. The route through the basement was as familiar as any, as familiar as if he’d trodden it just this morning instead of years ago. It didn’t take him long to find the source of the cries.

He saw the broken wood first. Rotted with mold and damp, the sharp and torn edges of the floor above gaped downwards like misshapen teeth, while a beam of light shown down from the hole. And there, surrounded by splintered wood, was a little boy. He was enshrined in light beam, his blond hair seemingly to glow under its touch, while dust particles floated lazily about him.

His shirt was most likely once a Robin's egg blue, though it was darkened with dirt and grime now. He had a small leather pack on, a stuffed animal sticking halfway out, arms and head free. His face was red and shiny with tears, small fists pressed against his eyes, and his tiny frame shook with sobs. It was surreal sight, especially for a man who had seen nothing but darkness for so long.

“Boy.” The boy jerked as if struck, the brightest blue eyes that Vincent had ever seen on a human widening when he caught sight of him.

“Va…Vampire!” The boy shrieked, and leapt to his feet to flee before his left ankle crumbled underneath him, sending him face first into the floor. He burst into sobs again, swinging around to hold his ankle with both hands. “Please don’t eat me, Mr. Vampire. P-Please, don’t eat m-me! I gotta help my mama with the f-farm and she’s – she’s gonna be so _angry!”_

Vincent winced when the cries upped in volume and quantity, making his ears ring, crouching down next to the shaking form. “…I’m not going to eat you, idiot child. I am not a vampire.”

The sobs dialed down to something vaguely tolerable, nervous eyes staring up at him, a fat bottom lip quivering. “You’re…not?”

“No.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“…promise?”

Vincent let out a huff of annoyance, holding his hand up as if in a pledge, voice dry. “Yes. Now, what have you done to yourself?”

The boy sniffled, an arm coming up to wipe at his nose and Vincent couldn’t help but track the movement with disgust, watching as a thick stream of snot smeared across it. The boy took a steadying breath, scrubbing at his eyes roughly, the glob of snot glistening. “I fell.”

“I saw. What are you even doing in here?” The boy muttered something guilty sounding and indecipherable, shrugging. “Let me see your ankle.”

The boy eyed him. “But…what if you wanna eat me?”

“We have already established I'm not a vampire, so I will not eat you. And you aren’t bleeding.” Vincent wisely didn’t point out that had he been, he would have been able to smell it. The boy watched him wearily for a moment before pulling his hands away and Vincent winced in sympathy at the redden and swollen skin.

“It hurts really bad, like a lot.” He sniffled. “Did I…did I break it?” Vincent reached out, ignoring the way the boy jumped as he pressed the fingers of his good hand over the swollen skin. “Ow! That hurts!”

“I suppose it does,” Vincent said blandly, “but you haven’t broken it. I imagine it’s a bad sprain.”

“Huh?”

“You’ve just angered it, boy, it will be fine in a few days.”

“My name’s Cloud, not _boy.”_ The boy corrected, voice indignant. Then as quickly as the attitude came, it left, and he sank into himself sadly. “Mama’s gonna be mad.”

“Yes, she most likely will be." Cloud shrunk into himself even more, face petulant. “Do you believe she shouldn’t be? Undoubtedly you know you're not allowed in here.”

“…no.” Cloud admitted, voice desolate. “I don’t like it when Mama’s mad.” Vincent had nothing to say to this, so he simply shrugged. Cloud glanced around him, lower lip wobbling threateningly again. “How am I gonna get out? How can I get home?”

“I will take you out of here, but only if you promise you will never come back.” Vincent offered, voice hard. Blue eyes snapped to him, wide with disbelief.

“But!”

“No, no buts. You will not return or I will leave you here, alone, in the dark.” Cloud blinked, fat tears trailing down his cheeks, before nodding. “Then it is settled.”

He reached down and pulled the boy up into his arms. The first thing that struck him was how light Cloud was, like holding air, and Vincent had a strange awareness of how easily he could crush him, that he could crumble him up in his hands like an old pop can. He shook that thought away, ignoring the dark and heady chuckle in his mind as he repressed the burgeoning awareness of Chaos.

Vincent had never held a child before and found it an odd and awkward experience. But Cloud seemed not to sense his disease, squirming and readjusting himself freely as waifish arms curled around Vincent’s neck, thin legs wrapping around his waist, the boy clinging tightly. Vincent had no idea why this shocked him; it made perfect sense that Cloud would seek some stability after being picked up, it was a natural reflex of a child, and yet it did.

Vincent froze, unsure in a way he has rarely ever been in his life, as bright blue eyes stared at him curiously, the little boy in his arms finally clued into Vincent’s disquiet. He was aware all at once that his hands were terribly placed, still resting on narrow hips, and rearranged them into a proper hold, tucking his clawed and disfigured hand away from the boy completely. The move seemed to reassure Cloud, who went almost limp in his arms, fingers curling in Vincent’s cloak with a trust he far from deserved.

Vincent cleared his throat, turning and heading towards the stairs. It took him hardly any time to exit the hidden basement, each step carefully placed to avoid repeating Cloud’s fall. The light of the outside stunned him still for a moment, Vincent standing dumbly and blinking harshly against it. It seems impossible that the world outside is unchanged; Nibelheim was bright with spring, flowers in bloom and birds singing cheerfully. It seemed impossible that the world was so alive while Lucrecia –

But no, Vincent pushed his shame away, boxed it up in that heavy and broken spot of his mind. If there was any merit to his time at ShinRa, it was the Turk training that allowed him to compartmentalize well. He carried Cloud towards the fence, ignoring the gasping cry of amazement as he leapt easily over it and landed on the other side.

Cloud blinked up at him, eyes wide, mouth moving soundlessly. For a moment, Vincent feared another round of tears, but then he was nearly deafened by an excited squeal. “That. Was. _So_. _**Cool!** _You just jumped over it! Like – _woosh –_ right over it! Can you fly, Mr. Vampire?”

Vincent ignored the question, setting Cloud down. The boy wobbled, a hand tightening on Vincent's belt loop for support. “Go home.”

“But I–”

 _“Go home,_ Cloud.”

The blond deflated, nodding sadly. “Okay.”

The boy turned from him, hands flexing on Vincent’s belt as if in reassurance. He took a hobbling step forward, then another, arm stretched out as far as possible without letting go. Finally, he took a single step unassisted – and fell. He tumbled into the dirt hard, then slowly pushed himself up on the palms of his hands. 

There was a miserable sniffle as Cloud shifted himself into a sitting position, staring at his scraped hands. Cloud whimpered, rubbing his undoubtedly stinging palms on his thighs, before digging them back into the dirt and trying to stand again. He barely got to his knees before the injured ankle rolled and brought him down again, the boy bursting into wailing sobs.

With a sigh of defeat, Vincent leaned down again and lifted Cloud into his arms. “Where do you live?”

The little blond curled into his chest, hiding his face in Vincent’s shoulder, chest heaving as he pointed blindly behind him, past where the town was spread out below them to where a single pillar of smoke curled above the woodland. Vincent shook his head tiredly – because of course he would live so far – and started walking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we have Vincent ^_^
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	4. The Vampire, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Vincent is terrible at saying no.

Cloud’s promise lasted all of two days. A sharp knocking on his coffin awoke Vincent and for a moment, the man simply stared at its wooden lid in disbelief. The knocking grew in force and volume, followed by a high pitched, eager voice.

“Mr. Vampire!” More frantic knocking. “Mr. Vampire, wake up! It’s me, Cloud!”

Groaning, Vincent pushed the lid free and sat up, giving the pleased looking boy a glare. “I thought we agreed you wouldn’t be coming here again.”

“Well. Yeah.” Cloud agreed, then held up a fabric wrapped bundle. “But I brought lunch! Mama made _so_ much and I can’t eat it alone. And she made cake! It’s got peaches in it.” Cloud froze somewhat, chewing on his bottom lip. “Do you eat, Mr. Vampire?”

Vincent stared at the child blankly. “Cloud, I already told you I’m not a vampire, remember?”

“Oh.” Another bought of thoughtful silence, “then what do I call you Mister?”

Vincent sighed, rubbing at his brow in frustration. “Nothing, I’m going back to sleep.”

He leaned down, ready to close the lid, but Cloud’s head popped into the small space. “Wow. You live in here? It’s awful small. And you don’t even have a pillow. Do you sleep all the time? If I come back at night – oh, you’re not a vampire.”

Vincent groaned. “Cloud, go home. And stay away. I mean it.”

The boy pouted. “But don’t you want some cake? It’s really, really good cake and Mama makes the best cake. Don’tcha wanna try – awk!”

Vincent pushed the boy’s head out by his face, yanking the lid close. There was a moment of seemingly stunned silence, then the knocking began again. Cursing, Vincent slammed the lid off and misjudged his strength, sending it flying across the room. Cloud stared at where it landed with wide eyes.

“Woah. You’re really strong, Mr. Vampire.”

“Vincent, if you must call me something.” He corrected with a sigh, sitting up. He glared at Cloud, but the boy just beamed sunnily at him. “…if I have some cake, will you leave me alone?”

“Yeah!”

“Fine, but we aren’t eating down here.” Vincent grumbled, stepping from the coffin. He was careful to keep his clawed hand tucked in the folds of his cloak as his human one took Cloud’s and guided him through the mansion. The fresh air of the outside was as bracing as ever and Vincent found himself taking deep inhales of it as they stepped out into the gardens.

Cloud plopped down between two empty garden beds, talking rapidly and vapidly about his day and the things his cows and goats did (but not so much the sheep, which he didn’t like because they were grumpy) as he undid the fabric and spread it out as a miniature picnic blanket.There _was_ a lot of food, several sandwiches and a healthy amount of raw carrots and foraged forest nuts. There was also a large thermos and a circle of cake.

“Here,” Cloud said happily, holding up one of the sandwiches, “it’s egg salad and it’s _good –_ oh…oops.” As he had been speaking, half of the egg salad slid free from the bread and piled on the grass. Cloud giggled. “It’s okay, there's more. Mama made lots."

Vincent shook his head, bewildered by the boy’s cheerfulness and sat before him. He took the next sandwich quickly, not giving Cloud a chance to destroy it. Vincent chewed it slowly, trying to remember the last thing he’d eaten before he’d been shot by Hojo. He didn’t really need to eat, but as the taste of the egg salad bloomed on his tongue, he could admit that he had missed food.

Vincent ate quietly, listening as Cloud chattered away. He only had one sandwich, letting Cloud finish off the other two, but did indulge in handful of the walnuts. As Cloud took a thirsty drink from his thermos, Vincent eyed the small pile of carrots.

“Cloud.”

“Whamt?” The boy asked, mouth full and giving him a disgusting view of chewed bread.

Vincent felt his eyebrow twitch at the sight. His own father, Grimoire, had been man made of stiff manners and installed them fiercely in his children. Almost on instinct, Vincent reached out and flicked Cloud’s forehead disapprovingly, ordering him to _“Chew, swallow, then repeat yourself clearly,’_ in a manner that was so reminiscent of his father that it gave Vincent pause.

“Sorry, Mr. Vincent. I said ‘what?’”

“Better, but don’t speak with your mouth full. Now, eat your vegetables.”

Cloud made a face, “but they’re nasty.”

“Your mother wouldn’t have packed them if she intended for you to skip them. Eat your carrots or we won’t have any cake.”

“What?”

“Are you allowed to have dessert at home if you don’t clean your plate?”

“No.” Cloud admitted mulishly.

“So eat them.”

“And then we can have cake?”

“Yes.”

Cloud grumbled some more but did as he was told. Vincent shook his head, in wonder at himself. He’d never felt any type of affection for children in the past, not being one who ever really enjoyed being around them. Yet something about Cloud had him channeling Grimoire Valentine like the man reborn.

“There,” Cloud said, clearly put out and disgusted, sticking his tongue out dramatically, “I did it.”

“Well done.” Vincent said flatly, but Cloud perked up at the praise, missing the sarcasm completely.

“Cake!”

Vincent rolled his eyes at the boy’s single mindedness but accepted the cake half Cloud offered. It was really quite good.

* * *

No matter how delicious the food was (especially after so long without) Vincent would never had indulged Cloud if he knew that boy would take it as encouragement. Every day around lunch time, the knocking on his coffin would begin. It seemed no matter what he said or how Vincent said it, Cloud was determined to share lunch with him.

“My Mama always makes extra now,” Cloud had confided to him one afternoon, “because I told her I gotta friend here now and I’ve never had a friend in town before, and she’s really happy. So she doesn’t mind making more even though we don’t always got a lot of food.”

After that, Vincent didn’t quite have it in him to rebuke the boy’s visits as harshly as he had been. After a month, Vincent gave up completely and began meeting Cloud at the mansion’s gate, waiting in the nearby trees until he heard Cloud’s footsteps approach. And if a part of him began to look forward to seeing that blond head turn the corner of the road, to watch his face brighten with excitement as his little voice cried out _“Hullo, Mr. Vincent!”_ Well, no one had to know but Chaos.

Today’s lunch was simpler, jam sandwiches just a little too dry to be any good, with an even smaller amount of carrots that Vincent made Cloud eat the entirety of. After each lunch it seemed that Cloud stayed a bit longer, but to his surprise the man found that he didn’t really mind it. Lunch was finished and Cloud was stretched out on his back by Vincent’s side, watching a pristine blue sky with giant, fluffy white clouds dotting it.

“I start school tomorrow.” Cloud admitted quietly, nerves evident in his voice.

Vincent watched him from the corner of his eye. He’d learned by now that despite his pluckiness, Cloud could be quite shy, and knew better than to direct his whole attention to the boy less he clam up completely. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” Then, after a prolonged silence, “I’m kinda scared.”

“Why?”

“The other kids don’t like me.” The blond admitted, “they never like me. 'Cause I don’t have a daddy.”

Vincent let out a soft hum of acknowledgement. He had been raised in Midgar, which was far more open and understanding of children born out of wedlock. In fact, such a thing would hardly have risen an eyebrow back in the city, but he’d been a Turk long enough to know how small towns were about these types of things. He had never pried about Cloud’s family life, but he had picked up on the blond’s absent father, simply because he never mentioned him. And Cloud was a bit of an oversharer. 

“Do they pick on you?”

Cloud rolled over onto his side so he was facing Vincent, his fingers snapping grass strands from the ground. “Yeah, they call me loser and stuff. I hear them all the time.”

“Ignore them.” Vincent advised, “if they’re that shallow, they are not worth your time. All people like that want is attention, if you don’t give it to them, they will lose interest.”

“But…they call me bastard.”

Vincent sighed at the forlorn look on the boy’s face. “Where I’m from, it’s not uncommon for women to have children outside of marriage. It’s only a big deal in places like here, where people are small minded.”

“Really?” The idea seemed to shock Cloud to his core. “Where’s that?”

“Midgar.”

“I’m gonna go to Midgar.” Cloud announced confidently.

“Oh?”

“Yeah! That’s where my best friend lives. And I wanna be with him. And I wanna join SOLDIER like General Sephiroth! He’s a hero! He’s not really older than me but he’s wining a whole war by himself. If I was like that, no one would ever make fun of me.”

Cloud had more to say, but Vincent had long stopped hearing him. He stared blankly at the grass by his boots. It couldn’t be…but…Sephiroth was a rare name. Lucrecia had chosen it after an unpopular constellation, she had such love for the stars. Could it be –

“Cloud.”

“ – when I come home, everybody’s gonna – huh?”

“Tell me more about Sephiroth.”

“Uh, okay. Like what?”

“…what does he look like?”

“I don’t know,” Cloud confessed embarrassedly, “but I know he’s almost my age! He’s eleven and he’s wining the entire war with Wutai!”

Eleven.

…it had to be Lucrecia’s child. A boy…Lucrecia’s child was alive. Vincent heart was thundering in his chest at the very thought. Alive and fighting in a war, Lucrecia’s son was – eleven years. Had he really slept for so long? Still a child, really, not even on the verge of manhood and ShinRa had just put him out to field, like some sort of tool. But of course, what else would Hojo had done with him? The man was never what anyone would call emotional or soft; even for his own son Hojo would never have been capable of feeling anything other than a scientific interest. What did Sephiroth look like? Did he have Lucrecia’s face? She’d had exquisite bone structure, lips that were delicate, so soft to the touch. And her hair…

It took Vincent far longer than normal to notice that Cloud had stopped talking, so lost in his memories of Lucrecia and fantasies of what her son could look like today. He glanced over to find that Cloud had talked himself to sleep, one hand tucked under his head like a pillow. It was...cute. How old was Cloud? He couldn’t be much older than four or five. It was hard to tell; Cloud was very bright, fairly advanced verbally and far more intelligent than most small children. He _was_ very small, though, and he looked almost overwhelmingly fragile as he slept.

That he slept at all in Vincent’s presence, that he slept so easily and completely, was humbling. Truly if Cloud only knew what Vincent was, he would not sleep so contently. With a self-deprecating sigh, Vincent reached up pulled his cloak freely, splaying it over the sleeping boy.

He would let Cloud sleep for a little longer, than send him on his way. Vincent turned away, staring up at the puffy clouds in the sky, and let himself imagine Lucrecia’s boy once more.

* * *

The first day of school did not go well. Vincent could tell Cloud was upset by the cadence of his footsteps alone, but the state of his young friend when he stomped into the mansion’s yard was shocking. He was covered in dirt, his shirt torn from the neck, his face bruised and bleeding, one eye already swelling shut.

“Cloud, what happened?” And if he wasn’t so concerned about Cloud bruised face and neck, he would have been startled by the raw concern he heard in his own voice.

“I hate everyone!” Cloud shouted, sniffling loudly, little hands shaking by his side. “I hate everyone in this town! Everyone!”

“Cloud.” Vincent admonished, pulling the edge of his cloak up to wipe some of the dirt and dried blood from the boy’s face. “Cloud, what happened?”

Cloud stared up at him, blue eyes wet, and then burst into angry sobs, throwing his arms around Vincent’s waist. The man froze, then carefully set his human hand atop Cloud’s head. His clawed hand twitched, moving forward on impulse to hold shaking shoulders before Vincent caught it and forced it back behind his thigh.

After a long moment, Cloud finally seemed to calm. He pulled away, rubbing at his swollen eye. “I got in a fight.”

Vincent sighed. “Cloud–”

“They called Mama a bad name! They called Mama a _whore!”_ Blue eyes burned up at him with a fury that caught Vincent off guard. “They can call me loser and dork and stuff, but _they don’t get to say mean things about Mama!”_

“Okay, Cloud.” Vincent said gently, “okay.”

“You said ignore them, but I can’t, ‘cause they're so mean to Mama and I _love_ Mama! Mama is my – Mama is my _best_ friend!” Cloud continued, voice getting more and more high pitched, “and I don’t care that Mr. Henry was mad. I don’t care, I don’t, Mr. Henry is _stupid.”_

This, Vincent knew, was a lie. Cloud had confided in him that he liked Mr. Henry and Vincent knew that this was a blow to the poor boy.

“And they always hit me! Always, and no one _ever_ gets mad at them, and it’s not _fair!_ No one is fair!”

“Breathe, Cloud.” Vincent tried to coax, kneeling down to the boy’s level, resting his hand on Cloud’s shoulder. “You need to breathe, Cloud, you’re hyperventilating.”

 _“I don’t care!”_ Cloud screamed, face completely red, “they always hit me and no one says nothing and I always get in trouble! I’m not a bad boy, _I’m not!”_

“You’re not.” Vincent said quietly, “you’re not a bad boy, Cloud.”

The words seemed to break through the blond’s hysterics, Cloud staring mutely at him. Then he began to cry again, but this time it was a quiet, sad thing. Vincent reached out gently with his good hand, pulling the boy to him. Small fingers curled into his shirt, a hot face burrowing in his neck.

“It’s okay, Cloud,” Vincent murmured, “you’re okay now. Do you want Mr. Rufus?” Cloud shook his head and his refusal of his comfort toy made Vincent’s worry grow. In the entire time he had known Cloud, he had never refused the toy. Vincent shifted his weight on his feet, simply to get more comfortable, but Cloud whimpered, clinging tighter to him.

“Please don’t go, Mr. Vincent.”

Vincent closed his eyes, his hand coming to rest on Cloud’s back. For such a small, tiny thing, Cloud’s claws certainly dug deep. “I’m not going anywhere, Cloud.”

It took almost a half hour to get Cloud calm and by then, the boy was practically napping against his chest. Vincent kept up a slow, steady rub on Cloud’s back and eventually, the boy released him enough that Vincent was able to stand.

“Okay now?” Cloud nodded mutely. “Do you want to go into the garden? That flower bed is blooming.”

Another mute nod and when Vincent moved to turn, Cloud fell into step next to him, his little hand slipping into his clawed one. Vincent stared, shocked to his very core, but the boy didn’t flinch back or flee. In fact, it didn’t even seem like the rough, leather scales were even noticed. Cloud just stared morosely at the grass. Vincent had to force a swallow past a suddenly tight throat as he began walking again.

The flowers were some type of perennial, blue bells or something, and Cloud watched them with interest despite his sorrow. The blond boy had been waiting excitedly for them to bloom, tracking their growth from the first green shoots that had broken through the soil. He kept his hand in Vincent’s, leaning heavily against the side of his leg.

They stood in silence for a while and Vincent was grateful for it, because it took some time until he felt like he could breath easily again. He reached out, gently pushing Cloud’s sweaty bangs from his forehead, lips pursing at the bruise darkening on his forehead. It bore the distinctive shape of a child’s shoe.

“Cloud?”

“Yeah?”

“I can’t do anything about the bullying,” Cloud’s entire body drooped at the words, eyes growing wet again, “but I can teach you to defend yourself. Would you…like that?”

“Like Master Zangan? He teaches Tifa to fight in town.” The blond sighed, his entire body moving with it. “But he won’t teach me.”

Vincent considered that, wondering if it was a money issue or if this Zangan was as biased as the rest of the town seemed to be about Cloud. Vincent couldn’t understand it; yes, Cloud was energetic, and maybe sometimes he was annoying, but weren’t small children supposed to be over the top at times? And yes, his mother was unmarried, but he was honestly a good child. “Yes, similar to that. But I’m going to teach you something else as well, something much more important than fighting.”

He well and truly had Cloud’s attention now, his head cocked slightly to the side as he stared up at him. “What’s that?”

“I’m going to teach you how to get away with it.”

“Huh?”

Vincent chuckled. “You’ll see.”

* * *

By the time summer had rolled around, Cloud was coming around with less and less bruises. He hadn’t quite won any fights and honestly, he was much more of a brawler at this point than anything else, but thanks to Vincent he was giving as good as he got, and apparently that alone was enough to give the children second thoughts about fighting him. Cloud hadn’t quite grasped the idea of crowd manipulation, or how to play up the victim, but he was still a child. Cloud had only just had his fifth birthday, he had time.

Vincent wasn’t training him to be a Turk per say, but if the games they played after training or during breaks from where Vincent (bizarrely) found himself helping Cloud with his homework, were geared to teach him to step lighter, to observe and seek and hide, well – Vincent _had_ been a Turk for the majority of his adult life.

It was strangely pleasant, having Cloud in his life. For a man who vowed to never leave his self-imposed exile, it was a very strange and bewildering series of events, but Vincent knew that at this point he had become something important in Cloud’s life and found himself oddly unwilling to hurt the boy by disappearing. So, almost against his will, Vincent’s life had taken on a new routine.

He found himself sleeping less and less, rising earlier and earlier, though he always waited for Cloud’s after school visits outside the mansion. Though he chose to continue to reside there, that didn’t mean that he had any type of love for the place. And as the middle of fall came to Nibelheim, the few trees that weren’t evergreens became very pretty, speckling the dulling green with splashes of golds and reds.

He rarely saw Cloud on the weekends, the boy apparently too busy helping his mother run their small farm, so when he came tearing up the road to the mansion, bellowing Vincent’s name at the top of his lungs, Vincent was surprised. He still managed to get to the door of the mansion before Cloud breached the gates though.

“Mr. Vincent!” Cloud cried, grabbing Vincent’s hand and trying to pull him behind him. “Come on, we gotta hurry! Come _on,_ we gotta go!”

“Cloud, calm down. What’s going on?”

“It’s Tifa!” Cloud announced, dancing side to side. “Her Mama died and she’s trying to go up the mountain! She thinks if she goes up to the top she’ll find her Mama which is _dumb,_ ‘cause her Mama is _dead,_ and you don’t come back when you’re dead, just like my bunny rabbit Socks. And the monsters are gonna _eat her.”_

Vincent cursed, snapping his fingers and pointing threateningly at the ground between them. “Stay here, Cloud. I have to get something.”

“But—”

_“Stay.”_

Vincent darted back into the mansion. Last spring when Cloud had come to him about his bullying, Vincent had snuck into town and stolen some casual clothing. He rarely went into town, but when he did Vincent was careful to change. He was cautious not to be seen, mainly shadowing Cloud from a distance and from the treeline, but he knew that if he was his clothing would be an immediate cause for alarm.

He was stripping as he descended into the basement, discarding clothes carelessly as he went. He yanked on an old T-shirt with a faded chocobo print, a plain grey hoodie over top, a pair of jeans that were a bit too small on his frame, and a pair of boots that were decidedly too big. There was a pair of work gloves as well and Vincent impatiently bit off his claws to fit his misshapened hand inside one. They'd grow back within the hour, but for now his hand fit. He kept a careful ear on Cloud in case the boy was stupid enough to take off on his own and made it back up, changed, in less than ten minutes.

Cloud stared at him in surprise. “Wow, you look normal.”

“Thanks.” Vincent said dryly, then scooped the boy up into his arms, ignoring the loud _‘woah!’_ next to his ear. “Hold on tight, I’m going to be moving fast.”

“Oh – _kay!”_ Cloud shrieked when Vincent took off at his top speed. The blond gave a whoop, clinging tightly to his shoulders. “Mr. Vincent, you’re so fast!”

“Cloud, concentrate. Where do you think Tifa’s gone?”

“Up the old path, the one with the bridge.”

Vincent turned abruptly, leaping over a handful of trees to cut past a curve. A sharp scream cut through the woods moments later and Vincent ran hard up the dirt path. It took him roughly fifteen minutes to make it to the bridge and Vincent felt his stomach drop at the sight of the rickety suspension bridge – now hanging loosely from one rope. He came to an abrupt stop before the drop.

“Shit.”

Cloud leaned back, hair windswept, to stare at him with wide eyes. “That’s a bad word.”

Vincent ignored him, setting him down on his feet. Vincent gave him his sternest stare. “Cloud, I’ve got to go down into the ravine.”

Cloud paled abruptly. “Tifa fell?”

“You are to stay right here. You will not move from this spot.”

“But I want to help!”

Vincent’s hand shot out, clasping the boy’s chin roughly. “You _will not_ move from this spot, am I clear?” Cloud nodded woodenly. “Good, because if you fall I’m going to leave you down there. Do you understand?”

Another nod.

Vincent moved to the gaping cavern and dropped down. The girl was lying on her back, eyes glossy and unseeing as she stared ahead, and if it wasn’t for the steady beat of her heart in his ears, Vincent would have thought her dead. There was a lot of blood, mainly haloing out around her head, and Vincent quickly pulled her jacket off and tied it tightly around it. Tifa moaned quietly, a gurgling whimper of a sound, and Vincent bemoaned his lack of healing materia more than ever before. His kingdom for a single cure materia!

He lifted the girl into his arm and knelt down, muscles coiling before taking a leap upwards. He bounced from one side of the canyon wall to the other until he reached the top, landing neatly next to a deeply impressed Cloud. The awe on his face disappeared completely at the sight of Tifa’s bloody and unmoving body. His face crumbled.

“Oh no…Tifa…” 

“Not now, Cloud.” Vincent said sharply, kneeling down. They didn’t have time for Cloud to get upset too, not if there was any chance for the girl’s survival. “Climb onto my back and hold on tightly.”

“Are we gonna go really fast again?”

“Yes.”

It was easier going down hill and Vincent made it to the outskirts of Nibelheim – normally a hour long trip – in a half hour. He slowed down before the village proper, letting Cloud off his back before carrying on at an brisk pace.

“Cloud, go ahead and find the mayor. Tell him Tifa needs a doctor immediately. If you see the doctor first, send him to me.”

Cloud nodded, expression serious, and took off at a sprint. Vincent watched him go with a bolt of fondness. Really, he was a kind boy. Tifa had never been very nice to him, but Cloud was determined as he ran, head down and little legs pumping hard. His arrival in the village was noticed immediately – and not just because the mayor came screaming up from his house moments later. Town's like Nibelheim were incredibly incestuous socially, with so little change and fresh blood that a stranger like Vincent was marked and watched immediately. That he held one of their own, injured and not moving, made a small mob gather.

“Who are you?”

“What have you done to Tifa?”

“Put the girl down!”

And then, the mayor arrived.

“Tifa! Oh god, baby!” The girl was nearly torn from his arms. “What have you done to my daughter?”

“He didn’t do anything!” Cloud shouted, suddenly materializing by Vincent’s side. But if the small boy thought that his defense was helpful, it was anything but. Seeing the child of the town’s black sheep and pariah only heightened the suspicion. “He saved Tifa! She fell from the bridge ‘cause she was trying to go up the mountain!”

 _“You.”_ The mayor snarled and the expression on his face had Cloud hiding behind Vincent's leg. Vincent felt himself stiffening at the sight of such raw hatred, his hand curling protectively around Cloud’s shoulders. “You did this! You’re the only one who ever goes up the mountain! Always getting in fights – you and your whole family have been a blight on this village! We should have run your slut of a –”

“Sir,” Vincent interrupted, voice cold, “I would advise you to choose your next words carefully. After all, your daughter is only alive because of Cloud. Make no mistake – it was _your_ daughter that choose to go up the mountain. Some absurdness about meeting her mother at the top, and where she could have possibly gotten that idea, I can’t even begin to imagine.”

“You–” The mayor sputtered, but Vincent wasn’t done.

“Perhaps if you’d been honest with your daughter about your wife’s death, she would not be fighting for her life. Which she is – at this very moment – doing. And yet, instead of finding her care, you’re standing here belittling a child.” Vincent stared down the man, wholly aware of how unsettling his glowing, red eyes could be. “What a concerned father.”

There was low muttering going on around them, the crowd torn. They didn’t like the idea of Vincent, but the words he’d spoken had obviously struck a chord.

“Here, Alfred.” An elderly man said gently, the town doctor by his apron, “let me take little Tifa now, that’s a good lad. We’ll get her fixed up in no time. Come on, Alfred, come along now.”

The mayor followed, expression worried and distraught even as he threw one last glare over his shoulder at Vincent. Vincent met it head on, feeling rather content with the slight flicker of unease and fear on the man’s face.

“Come along, Cloud.” Vincent said, guiding the boy through the crowd, “let’s get you home.”

“Wait a minute! You think we’re going to let a stranger walk off with one of our children?” A beefy woman shouted, pointing a threatening finger at him, “just who are you? Where did you come from?”

“I work for ShinRa,” Vincent explained smoothly, which was not a total lie considering he’d never truly been dismissed from the company that he knew of, “I’ve been checking on the mansion and the reactor. More then that, you don’t need to know. Company business.”

And then he walked on, ignoring the murmurs of dissent behind him. Cloud clung tightly to his hand, and when they left the town proper looked up at him with a reverential expression. “That was great. You just told off Mrs. Brüggeman. Everyone’s afraid of her, even Mama.”

Vincent snorted at that. “I’ve met worse.”

Cloud looked distinctly disbelieving about that. “Are you really gonna go meet my Mama?”

Vincent sighed. “Yes, I suppose I am.”

“Cool. You’re gonna like her; Mama’s the best.”

Vincent could only hope it was true. After all, he was a grown man who spent the majority of his time with a five-year-old. That had to look…odd…to anyone. He could only hope that Ada Strife wouldn’t think anything _untoward_ was going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys liked it!


	5. The Visitors, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Vincent is forcibly adopted and ShinRa comes to town.

The last year had been perhaps the strangest of his life. Well, as long as Vincent was willing to overlook the time period he had served as a lab rat. He had expected many things when he’d first met Ada Strife; dislike, suspicion, even outright hostility. But to his surprise, the woman had seemingly taken the fact that her young son’s ‘best friend’ was a fully grown adult in stride. Sure, for the first few months Vincent found himself meeting Cloud and staying around the Strife homestead more often than not, every interaction under the woman’s sharp eyes. But it took a surprisingly short amount of time for Ada to seemingly accept that Vincent was a part of her son’s life. Even less time – it turned out – for her to pull Vincent fully into the Strife’s.

It had started with Ada asking with help for a few chores around the farm, of which Vincent was more than willing to do. It gave him no pleasure to see how hard the Strifes had to work to survive. Then it had become some what of a daily thing – a way to pass time while he waited for Cloud to finish with school. And then, because he was working, Ada began feeding him. Because this was Nibelheim and that was just how things were done. You worked, you were fed, and no amount of convincing on Vincent’s part would stop Ada from presenting him with a meal when it was time for one to be had.

Of course this had Vincent rather feeling guilty, he was quite literally taking food from their mouths when he didn't even really need food to survive. Too soothe the feeling, Vincent had begun to hunt when he could, bringing deer or rabbits down to help replace what he was eating. Ada, in turn, felt beholden to Vincent for introducing so much meat into what had been a rather vegetarian diet. She proceeded to use the extra gil she’d earned from selling the products they were no longer eating and animal pelts from the hunts she'd didn't keep for crafting to buy enough material to make him a new wardrobe. She’d all but tossed the clothes at Vincent’s face when he’d try to deny them.

 _“Wear them, damn’t,”_ Ada had seethed, _“I won’t have anyone saying Ada Strife leaves a good debt unpaid!”_

Vincent had promptly dug trenches to irrigate the small fields Ada worked, a project that had barely lasted him a day. Ada had responded by buying him new boots and gloves. So, Vincent repaired the loose windows and then, for good measure, remounted the front door and door frame. The next week, Ada bartered for a third-hand decade old PHS from the old baker. The day after he'd been given it, Vincent patched the barn roof.

And on and on it went, their war of passive aggressive politeness escalating until the Strife homestead had never looked better – and Vincent found himself sleeping in the hay loft more often than he returned to the ShinRa mansion. And yet, no matter how much time Vincent spent around the Strifes or how comfortable Ada became with him, she never asked the questions that Vincent had expected. His eyes were unmissable on their own and Vincent had never tried to hide his mutated limb from her. She was Cloud’s mother; she had every right to know what Vincent was if he was to be around her son. And yet still, not a word. One night, when fall had started to crisp the night air and the pair sipped some moonshine Ada had bought off one of the cobbler’s boys, Vincent asked her why.

 _“You have never asked.”_ Vincent had said quietly, eyes locked on the stars above them.

_“About what?”_

_“About my arm. Or my eyes.”_

There was a long silence, then; _“I saw you once, you know? When I was working up at the Big House.”_

_“You couldn’t have, we didn't work there at the same time.”_

_“I didn’t say we did. I wasn’t supposed to see, but the President was coming and everyone was bustin’ to get the place cleaned up in time. Dr. Hojo had a team moving you down to the basement. You looked dead – and you didn’t have that arm then. I didn’t ever finish my schooling, but I ain’t stupid, Vincent. I knew what they did up there.”_

_“How can you stand to be around me?”_ Vincent had asked, bitter, _“how can you stand to let_ Cloud _around me?”_

_“What do you mean? Why wouldn’t I let Cloud around you?”_

_“I’m a monster.”_

Ada had hummed, sipping her drink. _“Is that what you think of yourself?”_ She stood, patting his shoulder. _“There were monsters up in that house, but not one of them was you. Besides, it would break Cloud’s heart if you up and went away now. Face it, Vince, you’re one of the family now. Just accept it.”_

So Vincent had. He accepted that Cloud and Ada Strife had somehow, without his permission, become important people to him. Perhaps the most important, now. It seemed to Vincent his life was divided cleanly in two: Before Chaos and After, and he worked hard, very hard, to keep them separate. It was easy enough; Nibelheim was just about as far removed from the politics of the continents as it could get. And Vincent was fine with that. In fact, he strove to keep his thoughts from ShinRa completely. He kept himself busy with Cloud, and the endless chores and jobs the Strife homestead required, and on Ada, his...friend. Vincent had always been a bit of a loner, even in the Turks, and so it surprised him how much he found himself enjoying Ada's company. But then again, the only person he had been speaking with regularly with was a (newly) six-year-old...perhaps it wasn't that surprising that he craved adult company. 

And if sometimes - sometimes - Vincent used the shoddy old PHS to brose the web for news of Sephiroth and allowed himself to think of Lucrecia and what could have been...well, everyone was allowed their moments of weakness. But he could only wallow for so long before Cloud would come to find him, his face bright with excitement over something he learned in school that day, or a new short cut he found to the crick, or the newest bunch of baby rabbits born, and Vincent would find himself forced out of his grief.

Yes, life had settled into a routine over the last year, one that Vincent rather like. 

And then ShinRa came back to Nibelheim.

* * *

The small town they’d been brought to – more of a hamlet than anything else – was completely covered in snow. They’d set up the recruitment station at the town’s inn, down in the pub, which apparently served as close to a town hall that Nibelheim had. They could have used the old ShinRa mansion, but it had been abandoned for years and seemed to hold some sort of bad luck to the villagers, so they’d decided against it.

The inn was warm enough, a giant fireplace taking up almost the entirety of one wall burning brightly. It seemed like every male of recruiting age (ages thirteen to thirty-two) and some far too young to be considered, where crowded into the pub. Though it was arguable whether they were there to listen to the recruiter’s spiel or to stare at Angeal and Genesis. The war had seen their own reputations grow in size and influence, and while still nowhere near the fame that Sephiroth had, Angeal knew that their presence was the main draw for the gawkers.

Genesis, still pouting from being drawn from the front lines for something he considered so far below him such as recruiting, was ignoring everyone and reading one of the play’s he loved. Angeal didn’t mind the trip as much; it was a good way to see the world. Angeal had always loved to travel, though he’d only ever really been to Wutai and his own hometown, and whatever lands they saw when he and Genesis had travelled to Midgar to sign up for SOLDIER. Plus, Wutai was freezing this time of the year and though Nibelheim – located high up in the Nibel Mountains – was far colder, Angeal was eating homemade food and sleeping in an actual bed.

They’d left Sephiroth behind in Wutai to man the lines, though the rough winters there had driven the war to an almost complete halt. Only a handful of skirmishes had taken place since the snow had fallen in October, so Angeal didn’t feel guilty for leaving Sephiroth behind. Sephiroth was a…complicated kid, for sure.

Genesis and Sephiroth got along a bit like oil and water from the very first moment they met, but Angeal himself had liked the silver haired teenager immediately. He was quiet and taciturn, but Angeal couldn't blame Sephiroth for it. He’d already been at war for two years before they’d joined him and it was clear to Angeal that those years weighed heavily on him.

In the year they’d been serving in Wutai, both Genesis and Angeal had grown close to the quiet teen, their bonds forged by the war itself. And Angeal, the eldest by a handful of months, had felt responsible for both of them . In his humble opinion, Angeal had the best childhood by leaps and bounds. Even as the child of a single mother, Gillian had been a loving and kind woman, while Genesis’ folks were cold and distant, hardly home for a handful of weeks, and the red head had spent the majority of his time alone save for his household staff. And Sephiroth – well, Angeal had _met_ Hojo. Enough said there.

Both Genesis and Sephiroth had no idea how to really interact with people. Like, normal people, not underlings or lower ranking soldiers. It was up to Angeal to try and teach them some sort of social grace, even if it felt like pulling teeth sometimes. Sephiroth was, arguably, the worse of the two when it came to being simply incapable of managing conversation. Angeal still couldn’t believe that Sephiroth had been sent to war at eleven, but they’d gone at thirteen – and, well, child soldiers were hardly an unknown thing throughout the continents.

And ShinRa had always recruited young; Angeal and Gensis – as part of the trio of famous but basically teenage SOLDIERS – were being used blatantly to recruit their agemates. For all that it had mattered with Sephiroth, the youngest entry age for ShinRa was thirteen – which had made their own rise to Commander Second Classes all the more meteoric and appealing – and they’d had no lack of volunteers during the recruitment drive. 

In comparison with their silver haired friend, Genesis was a wild extrovert. The problem was he had been born an arrogant _asshole._

“Gen,” Angeal said quietly, “try to at least smile, these people have come out to see us.”

Genesis licked his thumb, turned his page, and ignored him completely. Angeal rolled his eyes, stepping forward to give the boy talking with the recruiter a warm smile. The recruiter, a Turk named Dirce, was trying to get him to sign up for the infantry. Angeal carefully pushed the numerous dead infantry men he knew away and did his best to help. ShinRa desperately needed men to replenish their numbers, it was the whole reason they were doing a sweep of such remote villages and towns. ShinRa offered a chance to leave home and see the world, a steady (if not decent) paycheck, and free healthcare for life for it's military forces.

The boy – Danr – was only a year younger than them at twelve but still stared at him with starstruck eyes as he signed on. They all had odd names like that here; Gunnars and Wilhelms, Sigs and Reins, Ragnars and Duns. They were a hard people at any age though, skin tough and weathered from living in a tough and weathered place.

“Glad to have you, Danr.” Angeal exclaimed genially, giving the young man a handshake as he butchered the pronunciation.

“T-Thank you, sir!” The boy stuttered, blushing heavily. “It’s an honor to meet you, Commander!”

“I was wondering if you could help me with something; we’ve been ordered to check on the reactor while we’re here. Do you know anyone who could guide us up?” Angeal asked, lips pulled in a friendly smile.

Danr’s expression fell somewhat. “I don’t know, sir, no one goes up there anymore. It’s too dangerous with the monsters.”

There was a scoff from Genesis behind them, but before his friend could let out whatever acidic thing he was thinking, a small voice interrupted. “I know someone who can take you!”

Angeal glanced down in surprise. There was a boy standing next to the new recruit, though Angeal was positive there hadn’t been anyone there before. He had a mass of pale blond hair on his head, shooting out in random spikes, his little cheeks pinked from the heat or nerves, with enormous bright blue eyes. He had a thick sweater on, with a too large woolen coat overtop it, and an oversized scarf that hung down onto the ground.

Danr’s face soured. “Strife, what are you doing here?”

The little boy (Strife?) eyes darted to the teen nervously. “Nothin’.”

“Go back home, stop bothering the Commander.”

Angeal frowned at the harsh tone and the way it seemed to make the little boy tense up. He crouched down, giving the blond (he couldn’t have been more than five or six) a warm smile. “Hello, my name is Angeal. What’s yours?”

The little boy perked up again, his smile wide. “I’m Cloud! Cloud Strife! My friend Vincent can take you up the mountain if you want.” Danr let out a disbelieving sound that had Cloud glaring up at him, a pout on his lips. “He really can, he goes up all the time.”

“Is that so?” Angeal said gently, taking in just how adorable the boy was, “is your friend here?”

Cloud shook his head. “He’s back home, but I can take you if you want?”

There was a snap behind him, Genesis pocketing his book. “Yes, thank you. Let’s go now.”

Angeal frowned, “Genesis, the recruiting drives only just started, we–”

“Will be back before it matters.” Genesis announced, eyeing the boy, a gloved hand coming up to stroke his short, red locks away from his face. He’d been forced to cut his once long hair off after a particularly grueling skirmish a few weeks ago and it was growing back slowly. Personally, Angeal thought Gensis looked good with short hair, even if did make him look even more baby faced and young. “Your home is not far, is it?”

“Nu-huh.” Cloud said, visibly growing more excited by the moment. “You wanna go now?”

Angeal sighed, standing up and giving an annoyed Dirce an apologetic smile. “We’ll make it quick.”

It was bracingly cold outside, enough so that Angeal was glad he’d brought his ShinRa issued peacoat with him, and it spoke of how cold it really was out that even a SOLDIER felt it. To Angeal’s surprise, a hand slotted into his own. He stared down at the blond.

Cloud blushed and gave him a small smile. “Mama says I have to hold a grown-ups hands when I’m in town. Usually it’s Mr. Vincent’s, Mama doesn’t come into town very often.”

“That sounds like a smart idea.” Angeal agreed with a shrug, adjusting his hold. He was hyper aware of just how small Cloud’s hand in his own was, and how easily he could crush it. He kept his grip as light as possible and tried to ignore Genesis’ shit eating grin. But then Cloud reached out, taking Genesis’ hand in his other.

“This way no one gets lost.” Cloud advised sagely.

Genesis puffed up like an angry cat, clearly ready to rip his hand free, but a sharp glare from Angeal halted the movement. “Oh, fine. Hurry up and take us to your home.”

Cloud chatted to them as they walked, mostly about his friend ‘Mr. Vincent.’ Every now and then, Cloud’s eyes would dart nervously to the snowbanks that laid heavily around the town to the road before them. Angeal let the little boy lead them and did his best to ignore the way the villagers stared. He and Genesis were both from the same small town, Banora, which was not much larger than Nibelheim and he was used to the way things worked. Cloud’s talking continued the whole way and Angeal was impressed with just how much he could say before he had to take a breath.

They passed a group of children, playing in the snow near a shoddy looking water tower, and the gaggle stopped to watch them as they walked. They were on the other side of the square, but Angeal’s enhanced hearing picked up their words easily enough.

“Woah, those are SOLDIERs!”

“Not just any SOLDIERs,” a little girl said excitedly, “that’s Commanders Genesis Rhapsodos and Angeal Hewely. They work with General Sephiroth!”

“What, but they’re not much older than my brother!”

“Ha! Your brother’s dumb though.”

“He is not!”

“What are they doing with that little wuss? Why would they want to hang out with a freak like him?”

Cloud clearly heard them as well, if the way he seemed shrink down, chin hiding beneath his coat collar. Angeal squeezed his hand comfortingly; while he had never been bullied himself – he’d been a broad and tall kid from the moment he’d been born according to his mother – he knew Genesis had never been well liked by the town at whole. Genesis had his own share of bullies growing up and Angeal wasn't particularly surprised when his friend shot a nasty glare over at the children, silencing them with that look alone.

“...and he’s really tall, and he has black hair, and he kinda looks like a vampire, but he’s not, _I promise,_ and he’s my best friend in the whole world.”

“That sounds nice, Cloud. I’m glad you have such a good friend.” Angeal said, smiling down at the child, and his blue eyes brightened immediately under the praise.

“You’re gonna like him,” Cloud said, determinedly, “he’s awesome.”

* * *

It took them a little over a half hour to walk to the Strife home, much to Genesis’ obvious annoyance. But at the very least, it got them out that pit they tried to pass off as a public house. The boy was still talking, though Genesis had long since blocked out the actual words. His high-pitched voice was annoying, the deep sound of Angeal answering interrupting the stream in the few chances he got to respond.

“There it is!” The boy shouted, and sure enough as they rounded an out spring of thick trees from the woods that surrounded the village, what could only be considered a hovel came into view.

As they grew closer, the front door swung open. A short woman stepped out, as pale as her son, clad in a blouse and grey skirt, a thick throw hanging over her shoulders, wiping her hands off on her apron. Her eyes narrowed, lips twisting down.

“So this is why the hutches haven’t been mucked? You went into town? You know better to play before your work's done. Why – I oughta tan your hide.”

Cloud winced, his hand twitching in Genesis’ before clutching hard, as if the fool boy thought Genesis was some sort of support. “I…sorry, Mama. I just wanted to see the SOLDIERs.”

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Angeal stepped forward, “my name is Commander Angeal Hewley, and this is Commander Genesis Rhapsodos, we’re looking for a guide to go up the mountain. Your son said a ‘Mr. Vincent’ could help? We’d be willing to pay.”

Genesis eyed the house and the woman’s cheap clothing with derision. “And well.”

Angeal shot him a warning look, but the other teen ignored him. The woman sighed. “I see. Yes, he knows the mountain paths well. Alright, come in please.”

His hand was finally released, Cloud darting inside. The two SOLDIERs followed at a more sedate pace, wiping their boots off the best they could on the porch before stepping inside. The house was surprisingly welcoming inside. It had dirt floors, but they were covered with almost wall to wall rag rugs, thick and neatly woven. A handful of more colorful ones were tacked up to the rough wooden walls, giving the place a... well, he'd just go with _rustic_ (and Angeal thought him incapable of discretion) quality, with the added bonus of helping keep the heat in.

There was a large fireplace with a mantle, over which a thick evergreen wreath rested, filling the air with the smell of pines. There was a single picture resting on the mantle, as if in a place of honor. A cooking stove was nestled into one corner and a handmade wooden dining table set sat before it.

An old radio playing soft Yule-time songs was resting on a wooden crate that doubled as what appeared to be a bookcase that held a grand total of three books. He could probably cross the entirety of the tiny room in a handful of paces. Though he had never experienced it himself, Genesis was in no way unfamiliar with poverty, and it was clear that the Strife’s were very poor. They had, admittedly, done the best with what they had.

“Thank you, Mrs. Strife.” Angeal said politely.

“Just Miss actually, but please call me Ada.” She offered as she took Angeal’s coat from his startled hands and hung it up on bare nail protruding from the wall. Genesis handed over his own peacoat, watching as Cloud hopped about, struggling through getting his boots off. It was comical. A warm hand cupped Gensis’ cheek, jerking him out of his amusement and he flinched back, barely halting the instinctual strike.

Ada Strife didn’t seem to notice how close she’d come to being hit, her small, calloused hand blazing hot against his cheek. “You’re freezing, my goodness. Come,” she took Genesis by the hand, dragging the bewildered teen towards the fireplace. “Here, warm up. I’ll make you something hot to drink.”

The little blond boy, now free of his apparently tricky boots, sat on the floor between them. Wide and delighted eyes stared up at him. “Did you really do all that stuff they say you did? I heard you took out a whole battalion all by yourself, Mr. Genesis!”

Genesis sniffed. “Of course, I did.”

“That’s so cool!”

“Hush up, Cloud.” Ada said softly, handing Genesis a steaming cup of tea. “I’m sure they don’t want to speak on that. What this world is coming to, sending boys like yourself out to fight in wars.”

“I assure you, madam, I am not boy.” Genesis corrected sharply.

“What Genesis is trying to say is that we may be young, but we’re very well trained.” Angeal corrected quickly, glaring at him. Genesis ignored his friend, taking a sip of the surprisingly pleasant tea.

“Mama,” Cloud chirped _(chirped,_ there was no other explanation for that sound), jumping in to add his own two cents, “they’re thirteen! They’re practically grownups.”

Something dark and sad seemed to flitter across Ada’s face before disappearing behind a rueful grin. “Well I can’t say I like it, but I suppose I wasn’t much older than you all when I was on my own. I certainly wouldn’t have liked anyone questioning me back then, either.” She chuckled, reaching out to gently pat Genesis’ shoulder. “Forgive me, my dear, mother’s instincts, I suppose.”

Genesis eyed her, bewildered. His own mother had certainly never objected.

“Vincent should be back any minute.” Ada started and as if summoned, the door to the house opened, letting in a rush of cold air. A figure stood there, his features mostly hidden by a thick scarf that was wrapped around his face and knit cap on his head – and with a pair of mako bright eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we have teenage/babeh Genesis and Angeal.
> 
> Next Chapter: 
> 
> Genesis: Stares at Vincent. Does this guy look like Sephiroth or is that just me?


End file.
